Of Luck and Regenerations
by S. Rune
Summary: A tale of two past loves and a third that was denied. Slash, the Doctor/Harry.


**Title:** Of Luck and Regenerations.

**Summary:** Tale of two past loves and a third that was denied.

**Disclaimer:** En imt on.

**Warnings:** None.

**Beta:** goddam-apocali, any mistakes left are mine.

* * *

Everyone ends up leaving him, some die, some get busy with their ever busy lives; some move on. It took Ginny three years before she declared she couldn't do this any more, she left him for someone who wasn't as broken, someone who could give her what she wanted. Harry knew Ginny deserved better but that thought didn't help him sleep at night.

Another two years passed – making it five years since the war, and Harry was better but still not whole. Can a glass be whole after breaking? Harry's loneliness came from his self forced exile, because he didn't want to stay with people who didn't try to change after the war. The same people who are still prejudiced, and would sacrifice a child rather than pick their wands and defend themselves.

Little did he know that in a month he would meet a person who was just as broken, but perhaps with more jaded edges than him? That man was fantastic. And for the first time in his life, Harry would fall in love with someone who knew nothing about him.

He met him on a sunny day while moping around King's Cross station – a place he can never stray away from. The man sat down on the bench next to him, hands folded behind his head and legs stretched in front of him, as if uncaring if someone should trip over them. They sat in silence, which lasted for an hour before the man broke it by asking Harry a question.

He asked him why the long face, what on earth would worry an ape so much? The man said it with such rage and anger. Harry was taken aback by how much anger was seeping through that question, and it took Harry a second before he noticed all the rage , most importantly the loneliness tightly locked inside.

In answer to the man's question, Harry scoffed, stood up and walked away. The second time Harry met the man was in a pub around the corner from where Harry's house was. Harry joined the man and together they sat in tense silence for a while before Harry broke it by mockingly asking why the long face. The man smiled at the irony before finishing his drink and ordering another one. They sat for a while nursing their drinks until the man got up and left.

Over the next few months they met a dozen of times or more, however it was on the fourth time that they started talking. They would talk and trade silly little stories, nothing of importance. Sometimes when the man smiled Harry could almost see the weight of the burden in his blue eyes. He knew the man saw the same shadow in his eyes and for a little while neither commented on what was in plain sight. The man understood Harry like Harry understood him and for now that was enough.

Life waits for no one; over the next year whenever they would meet, they would fall into a comfortable silence or doing things that came easily to the two of them. Sometimes Harry helped him through his pain and most importantly his rage, and he helped Harry piece the broken pieces together the best he could.

They simply sought out each other's presence because they didn't want to be alone and they didn't need someone questioning them on everything. Harry didn't feel the need to explain anything and neither did Charles – that is the name he gave Harry. From there, life moved on.

Two years passed and the two connected more with each passing encounter. Then on Halloween, a highly tipsy – almost drunk Harry pressed a kiss to Charles lips before leaning against him. Next morning, Charles gave Harry a smile – which he returned, and that was it. It didn't go further than kissing – it never did or will, but at the time it seemed perfect.

But Charles wasn't always there; sometimes he would stay with Harry for a couple of days and other times Harry would go weeks without seeing him. On the day Charles would come back he would smile at Harry and give him a kiss before making his way inside and eat pears or apples.

Still sometimes they would be talking – or rather Harry talking and Charles goofing around, then Charles would still for a second, and in his blue eyes Harry could see a sliver of the secrets hidden but then Charles would have everything under control and give Harry a smile.

However one day, Charles went out and didn't return. He had been missing for a month since that day when Harry opted to wait. He waited for three months and there was still no sign of him. He thought about going to the police, but what would he tell them, Charles is missing and that is all I know about him?

Three months later a man dressed in blue shirt and black trousers came up to him in the café he frequented and told him that Charles died saving a girl's life sometime ago. Harry wanted to disbelieve the man, he really did. But then again, despite everything Charles was the kind of man was wont to do this.

Harry would mourn his lover and cherish the time they had together.

* * *

Another year passed in frustrating slowness and sometimes rapid haste, that year saw Harry pouring himself into his work – he worked as an illustrator/writer for children books. He couldn't bring himself to go out and meet anyone, least of all befriend someone, lest he opened up and ended up in pain. Everyone ended up leaving him in the end so why bother?

The second year rushed by more than the first and Hermione's – who rarely visited nowadays because of her busy and hectic life – insistence he find someone to take care of him, grew more constant, almost as her unsubtle hints that Ginny is now single now. One day she asked him to meet her and Ron to have dinner and catch up.

When he arrived at the restaurant he saw them sitting with Ginny waiting for him. He couldn't walk in there, especially after he asked Hermione not to bring Ginny with her.

On the same day He met John Smith, well more like bumped into him. A couple of words later, John strolled into a café and told Harry to take a seat next to him.

A man bigger than life, which what John Smith was. With his witty remarks and charm John was able to secure a date with Harry by the time they parted ways. On the first date, John made Harry laugh more than he ever did before.

By the third date Harry was enamoured with John, and the infatuation was mutual. Something in John just called out to Harry. At times they would be talking and in this one second Harry could swear that he could see his dead lover. Looking at him with a brilliant if a bit sad smile and telling him he was fantastic.

On their first anniversary John looked happy, yet incredibly sad. When Harry asked him what was wrong, he excused himself by saying he had to travel again tomorrow. John smiled and dragged Harry over to the bedroom, where John had effectively stopped him from thinking about the meaning of these words.

Although, Harry could swear that as he was falling asleep, he heard the words "I am sorry, my song is ending."

Staying true to the infamous Harry Potter luck, a week passed and one rainy weekend an old man in a dark suit visited him, he gave him a letter and his condolences. Once alone, Harry started laughing and somewhere along the line, the laughter turned into sobs. He couldn't believe it, John died while he was on one of his travels abroad. Gathering himself, Harry threw some flu powder in the fireplace and with that he was gone. He didn't step a toe in the house for a month; when he did come back it was so he could gather his stuff, as he had sold it to a newly wedded couple, a red headed female and her husband who wanted to start a family.

He chose to travel the world as he always wanted to do instead.

* * *

As luck would have it, Harry was in The Louvre, attentively listening to Mr. Black talking about Vincent van Gogh, when Mr. Black was interrupted by a man wearing a bowtie. He ignored them and turned to see one of the paintings, before abruptly turning back again. Because he could swear he could hear someone whispering _Allons-y_. He chided himself; of course someone would say _allons-y_ he is was in France after all.

Disappointed in himself, and trying to calm his racing heart, Harry gave his attention to Mr Black once more.

* * *

Sitting in Cafés Verlet, Harry smiled as he read one of Melody Malone's books when someone hovered in front of him, clearly waiting for Harry to look up. A minute passed and the stranger cleared his throat as a last resort. He still didn't glance up, waiting for the stranger to speak.

"May I sit here?" He said, referring to the chair opposite of Harry.

Finally, Harry looked up, and saw a smiling stranger wearing a bowtie – honestly, who wore bowties these days? And didn't he see that man somewhere before? Instinctively, Harry wanted to let the stranger sit with him. However his mind told him to say no.

Thus Harry Potter avoided having his heart broken, even if unknowingly he broke the hearts of someone else.

* * *

**The End.**

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, there were references to Wilfred, Jack and Donna. And yes, Cafés Verlet is real, at least according to the Guardian. :)


End file.
